


Nekkid

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nudity, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 21:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The fellowship stops at a stream.





	Nekkid

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Dwarves are the most sensible race, and that’s never more obvious than during bath time. When they finally find a stream that they can bathe in—a little one that twists through the woods and _doesn’t_ seem to be littered with beasts and eels—Gimli’s the first one out of his clothes. He leaves it all in a sweaty heap on the ground and takes his axe with him, leaving it on the riverbed as he slips down into the water. It’s crisp and cool but a huge relief after so long without. It comes up to his chest, making his beard float out in front of him, and he’s quite happy to lean against a smooth rock and enjoy getting clean.

The hobbits don’t seem so keen on it. They fuss at length, stripping down to their underthings but not wanting to go further, then pulling pranks on one another by tugging things down and racing off with other’s trousers. The Men stock forward in their undergarments, chests and legs exposed but crotches still obscured. Gimli fully expects elves to be the same.

Except Legolas wades towards him, and Gimli looks up on sheer instinct, only to get a good, long look at the soft, sizable cock swinging between Legolas’ thighs. It’s exactly as trim and lengthy as Gimli would expect—nothing like a fat, stout dwarf cock—and the fine hairs above it are a sparse golden white, unlike the typical thick Dwarven bush. Legolas comes right up next to Gimli and sits down in the water, which only covers his trim waist and nothing else. His pale chest is completely on display, but Gimli doesn’t get a chance to ogle that, because his gaze automatically drops down. The water’s clear enough that he can still see a vague outline of Legolas’ lap, though the gentle current makes the view too wavy to be satisfying. 

It’s a good minute before Gimli manages to wrench his gaze away. He can feel his cheeks burning up. Then he gets caught on Legolas’ breast and the two rosy nipples that have pebbled in the chilly open air. His blond hair cascades down his shoulders but doesn’t at all obscure the view. Finally, after far too conspicuously long, Gimli looks at Legolas’ handsome face. Legolas is already watching him and smiles faintly. 

Gimli makes an undignified grunting noise and wants to explain his wandering eyes, but there’s really no good explanation. Legolas is objectively beautiful, and it’s hardly Gimli’s fault if even he gets caught up in it. He’s still not into elves, of course. That’d be ridiculous. Legolas is much too scrawny and tall for him. But Legolas is also brutally _pretty_, and somehow Gimli keeps getting swept up in his orbit. Gimli doesn’t regret it one bit. If he really wanted to, he could sidle away, but instead he hopes they have a good, long soak until they’re all a bunch of prunes.

Legolas reaches out, lifting his hand above the surface, and idly strokes his fingers through the tail end of Gimli’s beard. The water washes the deep red strands straighter than usual. He hums in his melodic voice, “How curious... your beard changes in the water...”

“Yes,” Gimli mumbles. And he means to say more than that but can’t. He’s too mesmerized. Legolas leans a little closer, his wet shoulder nudging Gimli’s, wondrously _warm_ and horrendously _soft_. Legolas’ hand strays to Gimli’s bicep, poking just out of the water.

“And I did not realize how muscular you were,” Legolas continues, delicate fingers tracing along the thick curves beneath it. “You are stronger than I expected, my friend...”

“That’s nothing,” Gimli grunts. He lifts his arm and curls it, flexing to show those muscles off. Legolas chuckles delightedly. 

Then Boromir drops down next to Legolas, splashing them both, and asks, “Would you like help washing your back, Legolas?”

Instantly, insanely, Gimli flushes with irrational _jealousy_, even though he’s definitely, entirely uninterested in naked elves. He was just having a nice moment with his friend. Legolas glances at Boromir, and for a fraction of a second, Gimli thinks Boromir’s about to steal his elf away. 

Then Legolas hums, “Thank you, but I have no need.” He looks back to Gimli and coos, “Would _you_ like help washing your hair? I must imagine it gets tangled often, with so many curls... perhaps you would allow me to braid it...?”

Gimli has to bite the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. He feels smug enough to face the indignity of wearing his hear like an elf. Purely to keep Legolas’ attention on him, he answers, “I suppose I could accept that.”

Legolas’ smile is so lovely. Boromir doesn’t look too happy, but he takes the hint and shifts away, back over to Aragorn where he belongs. The hobbits have finally entered the river and are splashing about like the children they sometimes seem. Legolas flattens himself against Gimli’s side and begins gently massaging water into Gimli’s scalp, and suddenly, every injustice on their trip has been wholly worth it.


End file.
